Things You Said Over The Phone
by tenaciouspterodactyl
Summary: Zosan. Canon-verse. Spoiler free.


Your voice never sounded exactly right over the phone. It didn't really sound like _you_.

You gave me one of those wireless snail things, and I begrudgingly let you teach me how to use it. Admittedly it took me a little while, but I learned to appreciate the convenience of the technology. While your voice sent over thousands of miles wasn't an exact match, it was pretty damn close. And soon we found ourselves calling each other regularly.

Your voice was always surprisingly deep compared to your scrawny stature. I liked you voice. Most times anyhow.

That sing-song voice you used to call out to girls made me want scalp you with one clean slice. You knew this and used the same cooing tone when you called me moss-head or seaweed-brain.

You would do it over the phone too, when I couldn't reach out and throttle you like I wanted. I would lash back with a remark about your ridiculous eyebrows. We would be yelling and threatening each other with bodily harm even though we couldn't engage in an actual fight like we wanted. I would be yelling so loud the neighbors could undoubtedly hear but I didn't even care.

I broke my phone during an argument with you once. My knuckles bloodless and white as you just kept pushing and prodding at my open wounds until my hand squeezed too tight and I was left with palm full of twisted metal.

But not all of our calls were spent arguing.

I know how much you loved it when I made my voice go even deeper I as practically poured velvet through the phone. I could hear little gasps and whines through the speaker as I told you exactly what I wanted to do to your pale, oh so markable flesh.

How you would chuckle and mock me, your voice low and smooth as silk.

"Oh yeah? That all you got marmimo?"

Afterwards we wouldn't say anything, just lay silent and listen to each other's breathing regulate.

But those actually weren't my favorite conversations.

My favorites were when I would listen to you prattle on and on about recipes and spices, not because I found the subject particularly interesting, but because I loved the way I could hear your voice light up and glow, like one of your stupid cigarettes.

It made me wish you were right in front of me.

Like all those times when we would sit at the little galley table aboard the Sunny. With my chin in my hand and you across from me, afternoon sunlight filtering through the porthole and making your hair shine like molten gold. Your hands flitting through the air, gesturing wildly as your voice sped up with excitement.

It was during one of those moments, when your eyes shone like the sea, that I first realized I was in love with your dumb ass.

I would grunt into the phone and you would know that that meant "I'm listening, please continue."

We usually needed to release the tension between us with sex or a fight before we could sit and have an actual humane conversation. The same applied with long phone calls.

We would either scream at each other until our throats were sore or jack off to each other's voices. It was after that I could really open up like I did. Release the damn on my emotions and tell you _things_ I was too afraid to tell anybody else because I genuinely trusted you.

It happened over a phone call.

The island was massive and we had to stay on it a whole month for the damn log pose to set. I had found some awesome training grounds on the opposite side of the island that the ship was docked.

I sat in the grass and leaned against a tree on the outskirts of the training grounds.

You had called insisting that I go hunting for some obscure fruit in the forest and bring it back for a dish you wanted to try. It led to a long, petty argument and now that things had calmed down, I bit my lip and tugged a handful of grass from the earth.

"Hey Sanji?"

You must have sensed the apprehension in my tone, because yours turned softer.

"Yeah what's up?"

I took a deep breath. I hadn't planned on doing this.

"I… never told you about Kuina. The whole story I mean. "

You knew the story. The whole crew did. But the only person I had actually told myself was Luffy. That's how it worked for most of us. Everyone knew the important bits of our pasts but they usually didn't hear it from the protagonist's lips. Most people didn't like telling such tales multiple times. Me especially.

Instead our stories got passed from one another like a ball tossed between friends. Yet much more delicate than that- fragile crystal balls with dark ugly clouds swirling around inside.

My story had probably gotten messed up a little, the details re-arranged as it passed from mouth from mouth. But I didn't really care. Didn't care to think about it.

So why did matter that I told _you_?

I guess love really does make us do stupid shit.

The phone acted as a screen in a confessional. I didn't have to look into those blue eyes while I spoke. Didn't have to see the pity.

"No." you said quietly. "Would you like to?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

You stayed quite through the whole thing, only speaking to ask a question or to hum in agreement. You didn't comment when my voice betrayed the tears running down my cheeks.

"I'd hug you right now if I could." You said after I was finished.

"Ugh. That's why I didn't do this in person."

You laughed, "Brutish moss-head."

"Curly fuck-head."

Your laugh was lighter and higher than your normal speaking voice. I could never really stay mad at you when I heard that laugh. It created strange things in my chest.

You always did this obnoxious thing whenever you couldn't reach me-where you would insistently call until I picked up. And if that failed you would call in three-minute intervals and leave increasingly irritating voicemessages.

I would listen to one, then delete the rest.

That's what happened the day before you died.

I was late for our date and you left 16 angry voicemails. I deleted them, along with all the others in my inbox.

I wish I hadn't.

Now I would give anything to hear your laugh one more time.


End file.
